Thursday 14 July

Things about St Hilda’s: it runs on fat cheques and fake smiles. It’s like those ladies you see in the moneyed suburbs, the ones who look perfect until you get up close and see how much work they’ve had done. This school has been around for a century; it’s old but remodelled so there are plenty of sharp edges and shiny surfaces. Iris and I have always gone to public schools. At our last one, if anyone had a problem with you, they’d be up front and pop you at the bus stop. Here, everyone’s angst ends up on PSST. It’s not just St Hildans; it’s people from Sacred Heart and St Josephs, Basildon – pretty much any private school within a ten kilometre radius. Parents want to know ATAR scores, but PSST will tell you who puts out, who’s hot, who’s not, a whole host of things I don’t need to know.

Last week there was a post about shagging odds for the formal. It’s always the cool girls who get named – it doesn’t seem to hurt their swagger. I’m starting to feel a bit panicked about the formal. I haven’t got a dress yet. Or a date. I’m working up to asking Stu, but maybe he’d think it’s just kids stuff. Jinx isn’t taking a date. She’s part of the Feminist Collective and they’re all going together as a group. She said she might not even dress up. ‘Why should I? Who are we even dressing up for?’

After dinner I head over to Iris’s for our designated Mum-and-Dad Skype. I have to remind myself about the things I’m supposed to say, the things they want to hear. What they won’t want to hear: that every morning this week I’ve failed to make it to training. I tell Jinx I’ll be there by seven, but I never make it.

When I get to Kate and Iris’s room, Kate’s just leaving. Her eyes skate past mine. ‘Hi,’ she says. I’m about to say something about hearing her play at the old pool, but she’s gone too quickly.

Iris is in her usual position in front of her computer, headphones on.

She nods at me and lowers her headphones.

‘Is it working?’ I ask. I don’t know why it’s always so glitchy. Maybe the computer senses our reluctance. Then Mum’s face appears – she’s right up close.

‘Hello, my darlings! Hello, hello!’

Mum and Dad have started doing this thing where they talk to me and Iris like we’re adults, which basically means they tell us all their problems. I’d rather they didn’t. I don’t want to know that Mum’s finding the ex-pat scene intellectually vapid, or that Dad’s in a quandary because he’s had to take on more corporate clients and it feels unethical. I don’t want to know how much St Hilda’s costs because implicit in that is how much Iris and I should be enjoying it. Lately I’ve been thinking it’s all a plot. Dad didn’t have to accept that job, the whole move was just to bring me and Iris closer together. As if!

‘Tell me good things,’ Mum says. Dad’s head nods next to hers.

So I tell them my wrist is fine and our new swimming uniforms are cool, and Iris tells them how one of her essays is going to be featured in Hilda’s Herald. We both say how excellent school is, how grateful we are that they sent us here.

‘It’s the best,’ Iris says.

Mum looks teary. ‘You girls,’ she says, ‘We’re so glad you’re looking out for each other.’

Offscreen Iris flicks my thigh, like she used to at the dinner table when we were kids. I flick hers back and get a sliver of that old kinship feeling, but it doesn’t last. It never lasts. I’m standing even before we hang up. Mum and Dad blow kisses and are gone.

‘You’re such a bullshitter,’ Iris says. ‘You’re not swimming.’

‘So what? God. It smells in here, Iris. Don’t you ever open a window?’

‘I’m working.’

‘What on?’ I reach across her quickly and before she can stop me I’ve clicked on her history bar. The last thing she googled was: How do you know if a boy likes you?

‘What boy?’ I laugh. ‘You don’t know any boys.’

‘Shut up. It’s for an essay.’

‘You’re such a robot.’

‘Fuck off, Clem.’

I put my palm to my heart. ‘Oh, Theo!’

Iris looks like she wants to kill me. Theo Ledwidge goes to Basildon; Iris knows him from chess club.

‘Are you hot for Theo? Are you going ask him to the formal?’

She puts her headphones back on and turns to her screen. She carries on with her homework like I’m not even there. And then, after about a minute, she takes her headphones off again and turns to me, and there’s a glint of triumph in her eyes.

‘Actually, I have asked Theo to the formal. And he said yes.’ She smiles without showing her teeth. ‘Who are you going with?’ She dismisses me with a well-aimed finger flick right in the soft cushion of my stomach. ‘Out.’

Up until we were twelve, Iris and I shared a bedroom. Shared everything. But that was the year that Elise Hardy invited just me to her party, and I went. And that was also the year that Dad had one of his research students staying with us and Iris got a crush on him. I knew because I read her diary, and then I showed her diary to Elise, but it all exploded because our teacher confiscated it. What Iris had written was just fantasy, but the teacher thought it was real, thought Dad’s student was messing with Iris. So much embarrassment. Poor Iris. Mean Clem. She hasn’t forgiven me for that either.

Back in my room I lie on my bed, eyeing the Kit Kat on Jinx’s bedside table. It’s been there for over a week. How can she be so casual about chocolate? She’s at a Feminist Collective meeting. She keeps telling me I should come, but I don’t go for extra-curriculars – swimming’s enough. Besides, I don’t know what kind of witchcraft they do in there.

I think about the formal. I can’t believe Iris has a date. The thought depresses me so much that I feel I must appropriate the Kit Kat. While I’m enjoying it I send a text to Stu.

miss u

I eat a finger, and wait, and then my phone pings back and it’s a photo of Stu looking tired.

all wrk and no play . . .

Then:

Send nudes!

He’s added a wink emoji. It’s a joke, but when I read it again, a hot and prickly feeling comes over me. I finish the Kit Kat but there’s no more from Stu. I decide to go to bed early. Getting changed into my PJs I catch a side-on view of myself in the mirror. I look like a truck. How can Stu want a nude of that? Does he really like me? Does he think about me the way I think about him? I lie in bed and zoom in on his photo and stare and stare. I’m doing this when Jinx comes in. She rolls her eyes. ‘Girl! Go have a cold shower!’